


Colourblind

by bluejorts



Series: Colourmates [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, Please Don't Kill Me, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3447083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejorts/pseuds/bluejorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had always wondered what being able to see in colour would be like.</p><p>As he grew older he grew annoyed, most people met their soulmate between sixteen and twenty. He, at age twenty two, found the perfect girl. She still wasn't his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colourblind

Sam had always wondered what colours looked like. He'd look into the grassy shade of Dean's eyes and wonder what the difference between that and green was. Dad told them about it, about what the world had been like when mum was in it. He said green was bright, alive. He told them, with glossy eyes, that green was the colour of life, and that it was the one he missed most. Sam had to give up asking Dad about the colours after a while, the man was fragile, so easily broken.

So he asked his teachers, fascination following him from school to school he asked every married teacher he could.

From their descriptions he grew particularly fond of yellow. Dad had once told him it was the colour of Mum's hair. It was bright and playful, full of life and carefree. It was the colour of happiness and warmth - of the sun and the center of flowers. It smelled sweet and felt bubbly, warmed you from the inside out. He told Dean it was his favorite colour, Dean scoffed and told him he wasn't allowed favorites until he saw them, but smiled all the same.

Dad told them that blood was red, which was the colour of pain and heavy heat. And the colour of lust and women's lips. Sam thought red was too sharp and bold, but he liked pink. Dad didn't like pink, said it was a girly colour. Sam wondered how colours could be for girls and boys, weren't they just colours? He supposed he'd understand when he saw them...  _If_  he saw them. Pink was calm, it was like red but more warm and thoughtful. It was flowers and the colour your cheeks go when you're embarrassed or in love.

Eventually, he reached an age where asking about colour was taboo, and the teachers would laugh and ignore the questions. But still he wanted to know, know how the world could be different, how looking at things in colour could make him feel so much.

He resorted to asking his Dad again, which led to arguing, as did most other conversations with the man. Eventually it became too much, he ran, left for college and never looked back for fear of homesickness.

In college he met Jess, she didn't make him see anything but he was helpless, he fell head over feet for her within a week. She told him her secret, how she'd met her soulmate, but he'd run off, too scared to commit. She told him, in drunken haze, that she'd been upset at first, but now that she'd meet Sam she was grateful. They slept together that night, and Sam woke up looking into eyes the shade of the sea. Blue. Calm and mellow. He wished he could see it. Jess told him his eyes were hazel, they changed from brown to green. She never got bored of telling him colour. she told him her hair was yellow, and he smiled. He'd run his hands through it and feel at home, safe and warm.

Fire was orange, he'd once found it warm and sleepy. But when he returned home that one day, it became terror, heat worse than red. He hated orange after that day.

Dean told him to pretend it was a different colour, to turn it blue, they were near enough shades after all. Sam didn't understand that. They weren't, they were completely different. Why did Dean see different to him?

He stayed with Dean then, thirst for colour nearly non-existent, which was ironic, because after a few years they met Castiel and Dean saw colour. He wouldn't shut up. Told Sam how the first colour he saw was blue, Cas' eyes. Bobby had a dark green cap, he announced triumphantly, much to the old man's annoyance. He'd refused to tell them when they were kids, it'd become a game; everytime they saw him, they'd ask him a new colour, he'd never reply.

Dean refused to admit that he loved Cas, claimed that it must be a friendship connection. But Sam saw the pink in his cheeks, the love in his eyes, and envied them.

Years passed, Sam watched them fall further in love and further into denial. The jealousy mostly faded as the lust for colour returned. Dean would point things out to him; the fading amber of the leaves, like orange but melted; the silver of the coins. They fell into routine.

Until Ruby. Sam fell into a dark, dark hole. She tempted him in with tales of red and green, with the blood in her veins that made him feel like a God. He stayed there, in that place, for too long. And hated to dwell on it. 

He remembered how sharp Ruby's betrayal felt, how much his heart hurt. When he woke up on the plane, it was still there, the ache in the heart that had been broken too many times. 

Dean tried to act like he wasn't disappointed, like he didn't blame Sam; tried being the operative word. Sam knew it was his fault. He couldn't bring himself to tell Dean to stop telling him colours, because he didn't deserve it. 

He tried to stop blaming himself, he really did. But then the Trickster reappeared. 

Something in the back of Sam's mind narrated colour for him when the angel trapped them in 'TV land'. He wasn't sure whether he trusted it but found himself paying attention despite that. Most of the Doctor Sexy set was white: ' _Boring ass hospital white. The scrubs are dark turquiose. It's like, uh, cold and wet, like rain on the grass._ ' The narrator told him. Each enviroment they entered was described to him in detail by the sweet sounding voice in his head. Naturally this stopped when the Trickster archangel was trapped. 

Gabriel, the runaway, stared at them with eyes that Sam wished he could colour. He glared at them, filled with pain and misunderstanding. Feelings Sam could easily relate to. He spoke, and Sam wished he didn't have to listen. He didn't want to have to accept his fate, didn't want to know how badly he'd fucked up this time.

Water dampened the flames, and the angel's hair. It seemed to dim his eyes as well, the glint gone from the unknown colour. ' _Amber.'_ The voice returned one last time. ' _Sunlight through a glass of whiskey. That's what people say. Like gold and fall._ '  _  
_

Sam took one last look back, sent a silent apology, and then turned his back. It stayed in his head, the colour. Gold. The colour of hope, in his mind. 

Sam missed Gabriel, for the next few months. But he ignored it, and ignored the odd feeling he got whenever faced with whiskey. 

He never expected to see him again. So when the short being appeared in the doorway of the conference of the gods, he was struck dumb. Even more so when a voice in his head hissed at him to keep quiet. 

Loki.

They called him Loki. Not Gabriel, they had no idea who he was. He was still hiding even from these who he had made his family in a sense. 

Gabriel helped them, tried to get them out. Did, in the end. But Lucifer was there, Gabriel went back in. 

Sam could remember the exact moment it happened. They were on the highway, speeding away at well over the limit, they'd passed a sign for some irrelevant town or other and suddenly everything was wrong. Sam screamed, he was blind. Dean yelled, asked what was wrong. Sam tried to keep calm, but the panic welled up and choked him. 

They stopped the next town over and Dean led him into a motel, trying to keep him calm so nobody would ask questions. 

Sam sat on one of the beds, knees drawn up to his chin, trying to stop the sobs.

Dean told him it was gonna be alright, and Sam looked up at him. He paused. He could see Dean. Just his shape. It was like a black and white film, that Dean and Dad both hated, because it messed with their sight. Sam had never understood. But now he realized how blindingly obvious it was. 

He'd been in colour from the get go. Gabriel was his soulmate.

Gabriel had died for him. For Sam. And part of Sam died there too.

**Author's Note:**

> If this gets enough attention, and people want me to. I may write more... And it may hurt...
> 
> Please leave feedback! I'm not asking you to comment on every single aspect of the story, and I don't want solely praise, constructive criticism is welcome too. And if you enjoyed this it would mean a lot if you'd check out some of my other work.


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